


Opposites

by chaos_ineffable



Series: Good Omens 30th Anniversary [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Gen, Good Omens 30th Anniversary, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Married Couple, Minor Injuries, POV Outsider, but it is described, it's just a sprained ankle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23988439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_ineffable/pseuds/chaos_ineffable
Summary: With a small nod to herself, Darcy turns to walk deeper into the mass of books and antiques. Her foot catches on something, her ankle twisting painfully, and she plummets. She manages to catch herself on a lower shelf just before she hits the floor. A cloud of dust plumes from where her fingers land and the bookcase gives an ominous creak before the shelf she’s clinging to, and all the books on it, fall on top of her with a thunderous crash.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens 30th Anniversary [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1729684
Comments: 7
Kudos: 176





	Opposites

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt for this one is 'Contrast'.

Darcy is beginning to panic. She has been scouring London for a book her sister will not only appreciate but that she will love. Which is harder than it sounds, it turns out. If Darcy had known that Angela only read books written by lesbians for lesbians, then she would have settled on getting her sister a new cross-stitching pattern.

Why Angela decided that she needs a bleeding book as payment for a necklace she doesn’t even like evades Darcy. Besides, it’s not like she meant to lose the thing. It was around her neck one moment and gone the next. 

But she can’t argue with Angela that she shouldn’t have had the necklace in the first place. The least she can do is get her sister what she wants to make up for stealing it. 

It is becoming very apparent that finding an affordable copy of the sort of book Angela wants, specifically one where the gay characters don’t die in the end and they actually fall in love and live happily ever after, is nearly impossible. Every bookstore Darcy has stopped by has had aisles full of books with queer main characters, but she only has twelve dollars to her name and the only books selling for that cheap are autobiographies, which she already knows Angela will never read.

She is ready to give up, find the cutest cross-stitch pattern she can and present that to Angela. She would be breaking her promise, technically, but a gift is a gift. If Angela really wants a stinking book that bad, she shouldn’t be so picky about it. 

She turns a corner and something catches her eye. There’s a bookshop across the street. She can’t remember seeing it there before, but then again, she isn’t in Soho very often. It looks old and grimy and she is more than a little surprised to see an open sign in one of the windows. She glances at the sign above the door, where the words _A. Z. Fell and Co._ are displayed proudly.

She wanders over, squinting at the books in the window. They look older than she is. Every antique bookshop she’s tried has had nothing but ancient prayer books and Shakespeare, so she doubts this one will be any different but she’s out of options. It can’t hurt to look.

She steps inside, a little bell over the door jingling merrily. To her surprise, the bookshop isn’t worn and dreary like the outside suggests. Books and trinkets cover every available surface but instead of making it feel cramped, it makes the place feel cozy and well-loved. She wanders deeper into the shop, stroking a finger along the spines of a few of the closer books as she passes.

She doesn’t recognize most of the authors. There doesn’t seem to be any specific method of organization either. She debates just leaving. It’ll be impossible to find anything here, especially something that will fit all of Angela’s expectations. But there’s something about the shop that makes her want to stay. She feels safe here, as if she’s curled up with a soft blanket and a cup of her favorite tea. 

She glances at her watch. She still has a few hours before she’s supposed to be back with Angela’s gift. It won’t hurt to browse for a few minutes. With a small nod to herself, she turns to walk deeper into the mass of books and antiques. Her foot catches on something, her ankle twisting painfully, and she plummets. She manages to catch herself on a lower shelf just before she hits the floor. A cloud of dust plumes from where her fingers land and the bookcase gives an ominous creak before the shelf she’s clinging to, and all the books on it, fall on top of her with a thunderous crash. She yelps and curls into a ball, protecting as much of her face as possible from the avalanche of hardbacks that are raining down upon her.

When everything settles and silence reigns through the bookshop once more, she shifts beneath the mountain of books, wincing as a few sharp corners jab into her ribs. She manages to sit up and begins doing a full-body assessment.

“I thought book browsing was supposed to be a quiet affair.”

She jumps and twists around to find a lanky man with auburn, shoulder-length hair and dark sunglasses leaning against a bookshelf behind her. His mouth is tilted in an amused grin. She huffs and goes back to checking over herself.

“Right, right. Bad time. Here, let me help you up.” The man saunters over with an outstretched hand. The way his hips move is uncanny and if Darcy didn’t know better, she would almost think he was flirting with her. Which, honestly, if he was, she wouldn’t say no. He’s way more attractive than anyone his age has the right to be.

She grips his hand and lets him pull her from the pile of fallen books. When she puts weight on her left ankle, she cries out and stumbles, falling against the man, who immediately adjusts to hold her up. 

“Sat- fu-,” he stumbles through a few more half-finished curses before settling on a simple, “Alright, then,” and helps her hobble to a nearby chair. “Do you mind if I take a look?” He gestures to her ankle, which she can now see is red and swollen. “Or I can call you a cab?”

She shakes her head and blinks hard to fight back the tears welling in her eyes. Her ankle hurts like a bitch. “No, go ahead. Better to take care of it now, right?”

His eyebrows disappear behind his sunglasses as he prods at her ankle, his touch surprisingly gentle. As he looks it over, the pain slowly ebbs away until she can barely feel it. After a moment, he pulls away with a sniff. “’S just a sprained ankle. Nothing to fuss too much over. I’ll grab you some ice and you should be good to go in no time.”

He’s gone before she can even think to stop him. Embarrassment rushes through her. She is such a klutz! She completely ruined that entire bookshelf, not to mention the books! There’s no way they survived that fall without getting bent pages and dented covers. And the age of some of them! They must cost a fortune!

A realization settles over her shoulders. She damaged most, if not all, of those ancient books. Did that mean she has to pay for them? She doesn’t have that kind of money. She doubts she would be able to afford even one of the volumes that were on that shelf. 

The man with the red hair is back, an ice pack in one hand. She panics and blurts, “I’m sorry about the books! I can’t afford to buy any of them or to fix the shelf, but I can work the debt off! Or I can pay later!”

The man stops, his brow creased in confusion. “What are you going on about? You don’t have to pay for anything. You’re what, twelve? What kind of person do you think runs this shop?”

“First of all,” Darcy says, feeling very petulant, “I’m sixteen and second,” she stops and looks around, searching for any sign that the redhead wasn’t the owner. “I thought you were the owner?”

The man blinks at her then throws his head back and cackles. “Me? Do I look like someone who owns a bookshop?”

She has to give him that. With his slender frame, all-black clothing, and dark sunglasses, he’s not exactly the bookselling type. “Then who do I talk to about the shelf? I have to do something to make up for it.”

Despite the sunglasses and his current position kneeling on the floor securing an ice pack around her ankle, she gets the intense feeling that he just rolled his eyes at her. Before either of them can get another word out, someone stomps down the stairs on the other side of the shop.

“Crowley! What have I told you about making messes when I’m not in the shop! What will the customers think?” A round man huffs into sight, his light blond curls and cream-colored clothes a direct contrast to the red-haired man, apparently called Crowley.

“Wasn’t me, angel! The girl had a fight with gravity and your bookshelf lost. I was just taking care of her.”

That seems to be the first time the other man notices her. His eyes widen and catch on her ankle. “Good Lord! Crowley, why didn’t you call me immediately!” He bustles over to her and begins fussing over the ice pack. “Are you quite alright, my dear? He didn’t say anything rude, did he? Oh, I hope it isn’t broken.”

Crowley sighs and slouches, his face contorting in exasperation. “I figured you heard the very loud crash and were to busy to come down! How was I supposed to know you weren’t paying attention?”

“I thought it was you rearranging my books again! It wouldn’t be the first time you fell off a ladder while hiding one of my Wilde’s.”

“Wilde doesn’t deserve the place of honor you give him! He was a sleaze bag and you know it!”

“Take that back, you fiend!”

They continue to bicker until she clears her throat. They both stare at her with mildly surprised looks, like they forgot she was there. She meets the blue-gray eyes of the round man and feels that sense of safety from earlier. “Are you A. Z. Fell? I need to talk to him about the shelf I destroyed.”

“Oh, yes. How rude of me, I am the owner of this establishment.” He smiles and she could almost swear that he was glowing. “And as for the books and their shelf, you really needn’t worry, my dear. Those books have survived far worse than a little tumble onto the floor. They’ll be in tip-top shape, I’m sure. And the shelf is an easy fix. Gives my husband something to do other than terrorize me for a few hours.”

Crowley sneers at him but even Darcy can see there’s no real fire behind it.

She glances between the two, sizing them up. One is all dark colors and angles and the other is light and soft, sort of like a cloud. “You two are married? But how…?” She realizes, halfway through the question, that it’s rather rude to ask strangers how they ended up together. She clamps her mouth shut and looks down at her chilled ankle to hide her embarrassed blush.

Mr. Fell laughs and grabs one of Crowley’s hands, pulling the thinner man to his side. “How did we end up together? Well, I suppose the simplest way to put it is opposites attract. Wouldn’t you say, darling?”

There is a faint blush covering Crowley’s cheeks and he just nods with a noise of agreement.

Mr. Fell releases his husband and prods at Darcy’s ankle, carefully unwrapping the ice pack and looking over the injury. The swelling has gone down considerably and the redness is completely gone. Darcy gasps and slowly puts weight on it, easing herself out of the chair. There’s a slight twinge as she takes a step but it is easy to ignore.

Mr. Fell smiles. “There, good as new.”

“How did- I thought I would be limping for days!” Darcy laughs, looking down at her ankle again. The last time she sprained her ankle that bad, she hadn’t been able to walk for a full twenty-four hours and had limped another two days after that. 

Crowley smirks and leans against his husband. Darcy feels like he knows something she doesn’t. “Quite miraculous, isn’t it?”

For some reason, Mr. Fell finds that quite amusing. “I think it’s best if you head home, dear girl. It’s almost time to close up shop and I’m sure your parents are worried about you.”

Darcy thanks each of them and lets Mr. Fell show her out. She realizes, when she is halfway home, that she hasn’t picked up anything for Angela. She smiles as she remembers the odd couple in the bookshop. Maybe she didn’t get a book, but she suspects her sister will appreciate learning about a very gay bookseller and his unfairly attractive husband far more than any book Darcy could buy.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments! Thanks for reading!


End file.
